


Entangled

by ChainsAroundWings (AlzeahXei)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Dark Sheriff Stilinski, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Female Stiles Stilinski, Light Bondage, M/M, Object Insertion, Older Man/Younger Woman, Orgasm Delay, Sheriff Stilinski is Not Stiles Stilinski's Parent, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Slut Shaming, Underage Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 17:11:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12939897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlzeahXei/pseuds/ChainsAroundWings
Summary: Once you're trapped in the spider's web, it's nigh impossible to escape.Some are able to, but are you one of them?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Before scrolling down, please PLEASE read the tags first. There are triggering words and situations that you may not want to read about. Please inform me if I didn't put the appropriate tag or miss one.
> 
> This is purely fiction. I DO NOT CONDONE these behaviors in real life. If you're to post wrathful comments below, I'll just reply 'told you so :D' (Yes, with the smiley.)
> 
> And of course, this is not beta. All mistakes belong to me.

“Oh thank God you’re here!” Stiles barely manages to land her foot over the threshold when Mrs. Stilinski barrels into her direction, little Mietek a magical mass in her arms as if he popped out of air. With the sudden added seventeen pounds of weight Stiles has to rediscover her sense of equilibrium in between juggling her overnight bag swinging precariously on the edge of her shoulder and the avoiding crushing the toddler’s limbs. “I’m sorry for this last minute rush!” Mrs. Stilinski already has her coat on and is checking over the pockets and handbag in case she misses something. “There is a misunderstanding in the schedule and now I’m 15 minutes late! Not your fault, of course. I just hate to be behind time and not giving Mietek my best, and you–”

“Claudia!” It’s actually pretty funny to watch the whirlwind of a woman halts with a startled look on her face, if only they have the time to appreciate the humor. “It’s not my first rodeo taking care of Mietek for a night.” Stiles kindly reminds her. In her arms Mietek watches the drama around him while idly sucking on his fist. “And besides, we won’t be alone for long. I’ll be fine, your son will be fine, and you’ll be very late if you’re not on the road now.”

The last sentence jolts Claudia back into motion as she goes through her pockets and handbag for the last time. “Okay. Okay, I’m leaving now. Mommy loves you,” She smacks a kiss on her son’s crown. “And you too,” The peck on Stiles’ cheek is less of a kiss and more of a slap that nearly throws her off her feet. “Two days is just a blink of an eye. I hope.” And then the engine of her blue jeep starts and she’s out of sight in no time.

“Wow. You mom sure knows how to make an exit,” Stiles says to the toddler, who agrees by slapping his spit-drenched hand on her nose.

 

#

 

It’s true when Stiles said they won’t be alone, since Mr. Stilinski is bound for home for dinner. Unless something else of importance holds him back at the station. Well, there is a reason Stiles is their speed-dial-nanny-in-case-of-emergency.

Ask any parents, and they’ll tell you that a child consumes not only your sanity, but everything else around you – an adorable, but equally disruptive, black hole. When both husband and wife have time-demanding jobs – one’s a sheriff, the other’s a nurse – adding a child into the family equation is definitely a step away from madness. Or at least that was one of the reasons why Stiles got the job as their babysitter after Mrs. Stilinski grumbled groggily to Stiles’ mother at the diner where she works. Finding someone to take care of your enormously dependent child when both parents’ shift unexpectedly collided is a kind of hell.

It’s nearly Mietek bedtime when the front door opens to reveal Sheriff Stilinski in his uniform. “Welcome home,” Stiles greets while patting a fussy toddler in the verge of sleep. She can never understand why babies tend to fight sleep so much since they spend most of their time in it, other than eat and play. The fond smile stretches John’s cheeks and he looks less weary as he comes forward and places a kiss on his son’s hair. Mietek gives him a disgruntled whine and hides his face in the crook of Stiles’ neck, soft laughter follows him into the dark.

“Here, I’ll put him to bed,” John picks Mietek up into his arms, much to the grumpy baby displeasure. “I hope there is dinner waiting for me when I’m done?”

Stiles rolls her eyes at his smirk. “I remember your share. Roasted chicken and squash stew with couscous. I’ll make sure your dinner isn’t cold by the time you’re done with shower.”

“Are you saying I stink?”

A hand splayed above her heart as Stiles gasped. “I would never! Don’t want my employer to kick me onto the curb now, do I?”

John’s laugh trails him up the staircase. Stiles warms his dinner in the microwave and later tries to herd Mietek’s toys into a neat bunch. A steaming plate is waiting for John at the dining table by the time he comes down in a plain shirt and sweatpants, and the man takes a detour to fetch a bottle of red wine. “Should I fetch the candles?” Stiles pipes up as she watches John pours the crimson liquid into a wine glass.

“If the lady wants to dine with me. Nothing upsets the stomach more than eating alone,” John takes his seat, the spoon in his hand as he gives Stiles an expected look. Stiles takes the catty-corner with a put-upon sigh. Or as credible as she could. Although the tilt at the corner of John’s mouth tells otherwise. He swallows a couple spoonfuls before asking about Stiles and her mother. Stiles has been a dinner guest to the Stilinski ever since she started babysitting little Mietek six months ago and they’re comfortable around each other now to be able to talk about nothing and everything. Stiles babbles about her plans for summer holiday, while John tries to distract Stiles away from diving too deep into his ongoing investigation. It’s frustrating and fun; John is like the father she hopes she’s born to, instead of the asshole of a sperm donor who left them one night and never came back.

Besides, John does rock the DILF look. Or so says half of the girls in her school after comparing Sheriff Stilinski to his deputies on Career Day. Tan skin, blue eyes, sun-bleached hair, lines on his face that makes him look sexy instead of elderly – he’s in his late thirties, after all. He’s a no-nonsense kind of adult, but actually let you off the hook with amusement twinkling in his eyes most of the time.

John takes a sip of wine and notices Stiles’ stare. “Want a sip?”

Stiles’ nose scrunches up. “Hellooo. Minor here.”

“And you’re telling me you follow the rule book to the last dot?”

“Well…no one in reality does that. But you aren’t the right person either to encourage underage drinking.”

John’s shoulders roll. “I shouldn’t. But I rather encourage responsible drinking under adult supervision than downing spiked punch in Winter Formal. You’re sixteen and in high school, don’t tell me you haven’t done anything illegal yet.”

“That’s stereotyping. And it’s outdated.” John slants an indulgent smile at her since she doesn’t outright deny. “I can say the v-card is safe in my pocket, and I’m sensibly terrified of needles.”

John chuckles as he rolls the stem between his thumb and index finger. Stiles’ gaze is fixed to the clear ruby liquid swaying elegantly in the glass. It doesn’t take a full minute before her curiosity rears its tail in interest. “Fine. Give it here.” She empties the last mouthful and nearly gags at the first rush of red wine down over her tongue and down her throat. “Oh God, this is vile. HOW can you enjoy something like this?”

John snickers loudly at her reaction and claims back the wine glass before she drops it out of spite. “Looks like you’re out as a wine connoisseur.” He ignores the scathing glare aimed at him as he gets to his feet and collects the dirty plate and used utensils. “It’ll take some time getting used to the taste. Then you’ll either like it or you don’t.” He fills the glass again and instead of pouring down his throat, he holds the glass towards Stiles. “Dare to take the challenge again?”

Stiles isn’t a coward, but she is not dumb either. There is no other reason but the provoking gleam in John’s cerulean eyes for Stiles to ingest alcohol again. Still, before she could talk herself round and round with logic, her feet have transported her across the room and her fingers closing in on the smooth and cool surface of the glass. She raises a brow defiantly and she downs the wine in one go, working her throat so the awful liquid stays inside her instead of in the sink, along with the remains of her dinner. She slams the wine glass down – it’s a miracle the glass doesn’t shatter upon contact with the marbled island – and a proud chin held high. “There. And FYI: The second time doesn’t make it better.”

“Impressive.” John notes as he starts up the dishwasher. The claps John gives her after sound mocking. “But I did say it takes time.” Crimson liquid splashes into the glass again and Stiles watches John’s Adam’s apple bobs as he takes a gulp, her throat swallows dryly in chorus. There is a surge in warmth in her belly that has nothing to do with the room’s temperature or the season, and the fuzziness surrounding her mind that didn’t exist in the first place. It’s the alcohol, Stiles is certain, and she should stop accepting the drink John waves at her.

Last one. No more.

“It still tastes like shit,” The cotton balls must be inbreeding in her mind, which…ewww. Stiles holds out the wine glass and John must have mistaken her intention when he tips the bottle and out flow the wine back into the glass. It’s common for Stiles to lose brain-to-limbs coordination in any hour of the day, and she should have at least make sure the glass rim touches her lips before attempting to let gravity get hold of the liquid. Stiles isn’t too drunk to not notice that the wine should go into her mouth and not on her shirt. “Shit!” John is there in a heartbeat and puts the glass somewhere safe first as he assesses the mess – the distinct red stain down her collar and over her chest. “No worries, we can wash this off. Here, let’s get this off first,” And promptly pulls the shirt off Stiles, who could only blink with her hands in air while waiting for reaction, any reaction, to catch up.

“You got some on your bra too.” John releases the front hooks, exposing her nipples to warm air. Stiles is a fraction second too late in bringing down her arms and gasps in shock at the drag of John’s hot tongue over the curve of a breast, cleaning away the droplets of rubies clinging to her skin. The sensory under her flesh apparently elects to dial sensitivity up to eleven at the contact of someone else’s appendage; her blood boiling with a constant jolt of electricity running up and down her spine that has her shiver involuntarily, her nipples half-awake for attention. Fingers clench and slacken, untether and so, so lost, when her bra is tugged to fall from behind. Finally they decide to attach themselves on John’s solid biceps, an anchor so she can get her feet back on solid ground. The wine is gone from her skin, yet John continues to draw wet stripes around her breasts, with an occasional scraping from his teeth.

“AH!” Stiles let out a yelp the moment John closes his lips around a nipple and sucks. “W-Wait, John…” She can’t replace the moans bubbling out her throat with words as John rolls the pebbling nub under his tongue, or as he sucks fervently as if milking her, or clamping down his teeth that sends another jolt straight down to her crotch. Stiles let out an embarrassing mewl when calloused fingers pinch the other nipple, working on it until the bud is puffy and tight and standing proud. There is a heated coil under her gut, and Stiles knows it is stretched too thin and too taut. “J-John…” Stiles tries to warn him – or shove him away, her mind can’t make up its mind – when a graze of a fingernail over the tender nipple finally snaps the coil into pieces, the short-circuited current explodes and her vision whites.

When awareness returns Stiles finds herself faint with her body juddering from head to toes. Somewhere between her thighs there is a foreign pulsing that is making her knees weak; Stiles is certain the hands on her hips is the only reason she’s not a heap of sprawling limbs on the floor. It takes a while for Stiles’ brain to identify the words John whispering into her ear, his hot breath painting a layer of moist on her skin. “–simply by having your tits played. Such a naughty girl. But I know you don’t want to resist me; you just want to be my good girl, right?”

What? No. Stiles didn’t have an orgasm for John’s sake. Right?

Stiles opens her mouth to say something – to refute, to deny, to scream – only to have John’s lips crashing down on hers, the kiss all demanding and consuming and honeyed-hot. With her air stolen from her lungs and mind, Stiles can only hooks her fingers into John’s shirt and melt under his kiss, not noticing two fingers seeping into the elastic waistband of her pajamas shorts and panties and yank downwards, gravity claiming the garments from knees onwards. John hungrily feeds on her moans with both of his hands palming and squeezing her plump bottom, his tongue a successful conqueror of the warm wet cavern it invaded. Stiles nearly jumps out of her skin when two fingers slide along the cleft of her vagina, wet with her slick, and then prods at the entrance. She tries to squirm away from the invasive touch to no avail.

The kiss breaks and wanders to her jaw and neck, and Stiles takes the chance to gulp as much air as her body needs. John follows the trail of her moles by peppering little bites behind. “Here, brace your hands like this,” After securing her palms flat on the island’s surface, John goes south and maps her back with the same method as her front, his lips brushing any skin they come in contact with. “J-John…” Stiles can’t turn around, not with the steel grip on her hips, the moment she feels hot puffs at her ass hole.

“Shhh,” John soothes as he squeezes her cheeks apart for a better view. “You’re a good girl, right? And good girls get to come more than once.” Stiles can’t have her legs close on reflex, so she has to compensate by letting her fingernails bite into her palm at the first touch of tongue on her labia. The filthy slurping of her leaking juice swamped over the thudding in her ears; her hips twitch indecisively between moving away or getting more as John’s tongue dives into her hole, her juice flooding over taste buds. “Please...stop…” Once again she feels lost to sensory overload. “Ah! No…” Her mind is confused at the uneven blend of pain and pleasure as John sucks on her clit – the sting of overstimulation overwhelmed by bright golden ecstasy. This time climaxing didn’t wreck her as much as the first time, but still leave her breathless and mind just as hazy.

“Good girl. You’re doing so wonderful for me,” John praises into the kiss, Stiles a string-less puppet in his arms. She vaguely remembers stumbling out of the kitchen, John’s arm a firm hold around her waist to keep her from crashing to the ground as he steals more kisses. In another blink she lands on the couch, John not breaking the kiss as he follows her down and brackets her with his elbow. When Stiles is about to run out of air, John finally lifts up his torso; a clear sheen colors his lips, his eyes have been blown up so much the blue is only a fine ring around burning black. He plucks away his sweat-soaked shirt in one graceful movement; sinewy muscles ripple as he reaches for his pants and tosses it in the same direction as his discarded shirt. There is a rock-hard bulge under the brief, and a visible wet spot that is definitely not piss.

“Can you feel how wet you are, sweetheart?” Stiles’ breath hitches as John collects her slick and licks it of his fingers. “With the amount of juice your body is producing, I don’t even need lube,” He affirms by circling his thumb around the rim before plunging in. Stiles chokes on air as the ring muscles resist at first, but the slick allows smooth entry. John watches as he thrust his thumb in and out, marvels at the sight of Stiles’ cunt swallowing a part of him into her hot, velvety creamy hole. “Christ, you’re starving to be filled up, aren’t you?” He removes his thumb only to replace with two of his fingers. And it hurts. The sudden stretch of muscles burn in warning. “You dirty little slut, trying to milk my fingers.”

“’m not…” Stiles tries and cuts off as a third finger joins in and oh fucking hell that fucking HURTS. Her attempt in writhing away is stopped by the hand on her hip, and she could only whine as the scissoring fingers inside her prods and curls and stretches her stubborn tight hole. “S-Stop…please… No more.” John doesn’t seem to hear her as he sinks his fingers to the knuckle and draws back, a repetitive gesture in parody of fucking. The pain finally drops to a manageable dull throb when John removes them and the man gets up from the couch. Heavy lids could no longer stay open and Stiles let them fall over her eyes and she takes a breather. An unidentifiable crinkle reaches her ear and soon John’s hands are back on her. Stiles’ thighs draw close on reflex, but John has her arranged to be on her knees and hands, and the implication behind this position instantly snaps Stiles’ eyes open. “No, _wait_ –no–”

“Hush. I know you’re ready for this,” Stiles sucks in sharply at something blunt caressing her labia – no doubt the head of John’s dick. “You say you’re a virgin, but I bet you’re a born whore. A slut always hungry for a cock,” Stiles sobs brokenly at the renew pain as the thick dick penetrates through the rim inch by inch. “I know you’ve been waiting for this moment for a long, long time now. Always flashing your ass at me, begging to be fucked–”

“No–”

A loud smack on her butt cheek has Stiles digging her teeth into her bottom lip at the flare of sting, a tear escaping out of her eye to fall on the armrest. “Don’t lie to me, you filthy slut. I know whores like you – can never stand the emptiness inside you so you’ll present to any available cock. You made the right choice, though. Don’t worry, I know what you desire and you’ll take everything I give like the good girl you are, right?” John’s balls sits on her ass and the man sighs fondly. “Feel how much your inside is clenching onto my cock? Your body is so happy to finally have a cock it doesn’t want to let go.” Stiles shakes her head, knowing it’s a wasted gesture. She feels to full, as if her throat is choked from inside instead of out. She gasps wetly as John starts to move, pulling out until only the glans is still inside, and dives back in not so gently. Stiles’ body rocks with every thrust. “Ugh, _yesss_ , you’re perfect, Stiles. Look at you, taking me so beautifully,” John mutters into her ear before taking a bite on the shell. John’s body a furnace covering her back; one hand cups her breast while the other entwines with her fingers, palm to palm. Stiles cringes at the intimate gesture.

Stiles didn’t think she has anymore in her for one more climax, but her body proves to be contrarily and decides to pull another out of her. John growls at the squeezing of her inner muscles and pounds into her harder, faster, until his body suddenly tenses, his fingers nearly crush hers in his tighten clutch. Stiles sags into the couch, mind and body too drained to do anything. Even the simple act of breathing hurts. Soft lips descend on her sweaty temple as a hand strokes her back, soothing her shivers away. “Good girl,” Coarse voice pierces through the fog that drives Stiles further to the edge of abyss. “You’d done well, my sweet slut. You make me happy, I’m so proud of you.”

Another step, and Stiles falls into the darkness and remembers nothing else.

 

#

 

Her mom or Scott always bemoans her on her selective self-preservation about her situations. Well, like any other times Stiles knows they’re wrong. Like right now. Stiles is back to consciousness at the flip of a switch, and the first thing that her mind registers is the partially familiar room. She must had been into the room a handful of times, or at least taking a glance long enough to be accustomed to parts of the room’s characteristics – the fitted wardrobe, the light curtains, the bedside lamp with knitted shades. It must be close to sunrise, since the room is drape in purplish grey.

“Ah, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Stiles’ breath comes to a shuddering halt at John’s voice coming from…between her legs. It was then that she’s aware of the familiar faint pulsing around her labia, as if…as if… Stiles cuts off her train of thoughts and turns her attention to John as he takes his sweet time nibbling the flesh of her inner thigh. “I said I will be taking care of your needs, and your body’s been anticipating too long for the right cock to fill it up. I’m not a cruel person, Stiles; I’ll be sure to keep your pussy satisfied any time of the day.” He nips at her clit that has her throat shrinks before fetching something from the side. Stiles recognizes the condom packet and watches as John puts the rubber on before lining his dick to her entrance. Either her body is soft from sleep or John has taken time to prepare her beforehand, his dick slides in with minimal resistance. “I’m right. Your cunt is already hungry for my cock. Such a greedy cunt.” John bends his body and gives her lips a quick peck. “Such a greedy, dirty whore.” And begins to fuck her on a wild pace that has them going over the peak in no time.

Or on time for the baby mobile to announce little Mietek awaken from his slumber by his cries.

“Heheh. He has great timing,” John chuckles into the crook of Stiles’ neck as he waits for the wave of intense release to ebb away. He plants kisses on her collarbone and one of her nipples before drawing out his limp dick, ties the rubber and aims true to the wastebasket by the vanity table. A thumb brush tenderly over her flush cheek. “Why don’t you go take a shower first while I check on the little man? You must be uncomfortable with the overnight sweat.” He gets up and collects Stiles to her feet too. She winces at the ache shooting straight up her spine at the smallest movement of her hips. She feels more than see the smile as John plants it on her shoulder – an apology that bloats up the ego instead of humbling it.

“Here,” John picks a shirt out of the wardrobe. “No need to bother detouring to the guest room for your clothes when you can shower in here.” A hand caresses her arm. “Take your time. I’ll see you when you’re done.” And he’s out of the room. Mind blank for the first time, Stiles isn’t sure if she should comply or run the hell out of the house. What John had done to her, what she’s experiencing right now – nothing about it is appropriate, nothing is normal, right? She’s not a slut, nor did she display any amorous behavior, no matter what John guarantees her to be.

…right?

Stiles drops her gaze to the shirt in hand – a well-worn Henley that has been stretched to the fabric’s limit. John says not to bother with her clothes. That means… Stiles ears burn from the blood rushing up to her head. John wants her in his shirt and nothing else. Stiles is Mietek’s babysitter first and foremost, how could John want her to be around his child without any lingerie?! This, this is crazy! The man’s out of his mind!

Stiles takes a step forward, only to stop by the sting on her butt cheek. An image flits through her mind: the moment John spanked her hard enough for her bones to rattle. Not over 12 hours ago. Stiles doesn’t dare to move from her spot, mind whirring with frustration and uneasiness and anger and weary submission. Finally Stiles lets her body decides, and it guides her away from the door towards the hall.

 

#

 

Freshly out of a delightfully long hot shower, Stiles finds the paracetamol in the medicine cabinet and pops two dry. She then heads downstairs and finds both father and son on the couch. Crimson splashes over Stiles’ face as she remembers it’s the same couch John fucks her on. And now John has his son in mid-air, the toddler bursts into fit of cackles every time his father lifts him back up.

Looking at the man laughing along with his son, Stiles can’t compute this father to the same John who had coerced her into drinking wine and making her come and fucking her twice since. Everyone in town knows the sheriff and hardly any would have genuine terrible appraisal for the dutiful and benevolent man. And yet, Stiles would never agree she’s delusional enough to dreamt John’s dick inside her.

“Stiles,” During her silent contemplation Stiles didn’t notice John approaching her. Her frozen body relaxes when the man transfers Mietek into her arms. “I’d changed and fed him milk. You can put him in the booster chair and make breakfast first. I’ll feed him the baby food after my turn in the shower.”

“Ah…o-okay.”

She should have expected the hand stroking up her thigh to catch a handful of her bare bottom instead of wishing for John to simply walk away. The pleased smile on him both aggravates her nerves and lifting her heart to the sky above with thousand balloons. He dips to her ear and says in a syrupy soft tone, “Good girl.” And gives her ass a nice squeeze. Stiles inhales stutteringly at the lingering knead and the brush of his fair stubble over her jaw.

“It-It is all right for you to be this touchy-feely in front of Mietek?” Stiles mumbles under her breath as John sweeps his lips at the corner of Stiles’ mouth.

“Mhmm,” John turns and blows raspberry on Mietek’s belly, earning the child’s giggles as he reaches out for his father’s ears. John gives him his finger to gum instead as he turns a smirk on Stiles. “Mietek can identify kisses and hugs as affection. So for now he’ll see me as the affectionate dad who dotes on him and his nanny. Nothing wrong to him.” With a peck on Mietek’s hair the man saunters up the stairs. Stiles’ gaze follows until the figure disappears and tells Mietek, “Your dad is shameless.”

Mietek hums and blows spit bubbles.

 

#

 

All through breakfast John stays close to her, but doesn’t fondle her more than mere lingering touches on the small of her back or arms or wrists. With Mietek demanding attention, there is nothing else on the to-do list but to inhale the omelet and toasts on their plates as well as making sure it’s not the onesie who eats the baby food. Though Stiles is certain John gets his jollies from watching Stiles squirms in the oversized shirt whenever she sits her bare butt down.

All bets are off the moment little Mietek takes his nap. As soon as she closes the nursery room’s door John has her cornered to the wall beside it for a claiming kiss that has Stiles’ lips smarting from the bites bestow on them. John has grabbed her tit and rubs her nipple through the shirt, the other spare hand sneaks under the shirt to reacquaint to each patch of her skin. Dizzy from the kiss, Stiles barely has time to prepare when John seizes her thighs and hoists her up to prop on the wall. Stiles immediately wraps her legs around the man’s waist, her arms an unforgiving hold on his shoulders. John doesn’t seem to mind as he alternates nips and pecks on any skin exposed atop of the collar, his hips rocking below that bumps into Stiles’ pussy on multiple occasions.

John doesn’t slow down when he releases a hand to fish something out of his pocket. It’s a condom, and Stiles is wondering how John will be rolling it on in their current position when the foil packet enters her sight. “Put it on for me,” John grunts lowly, the rumbly sound of an old tractor. Stiles takes the foil packet and hesitates, long enough for John to be impatient and tugs painfully on her earlobe. “Stop dawdling. Your insatiable cunt can’t go any longer without getting a good fuck, and you know it. Stop denying your body what it needs; I know what your body’s real craving, and that’s my cock. Be a good girl and be good to yourself.” Stiles tears the foil and rolls the rubber onto John’s flush dick with shaky hands. She tries to contain the moans rushing up her throat as John fucks her in earnest right outside his son’s bedroom, obscene squelching of flesh against flesh fills the hall.

John lets her down on quaking legs the moment she climaxes and guides her into the room across the hallway – the bedroom belonging to him and Claudia. Once he has her settled on the bed and pillows with the shirt off, John plugs his dick into her hole again and Stiles realizes then that John hasn’t find his release yet. “See how much better you feel once you have my cock filling you up, sweetheart. There is no reason to second guess yourself. Or me – I’m here to take care of my little sweet whore to take care of you. You just need to open up yourself to me and take whatever I give you.” This time he sets the rhythm on slow – unhurriedly thrusting into her as he explores her body with his mouth, hanging back once a while on her tits that have the nubs raw and tender by the time he deviates somewhere else.

Once he places a final peck below her bellybutton John comes back up and dives for her mouth, a thumb rubbing incessantly on her clit that has Stiles shuddering through her release. John plunges in for another two times before he comes into the condom, his mouth an ‘O’ for a silent groan as he continues to fuck her until her pussy milks him dry. The condom taken care of, John checks the time on his phone. “Oh. Looks like two more hours and Claudia will be home from her conference.”

Something must have shown on her face as John smiles indulgently at her as if a parent would at their child when they ask why do they need to eat the greens. “Oh Stiles,” He climbs the bed and lays next to her on his elbow, the hand running up and down her belly as if an owner would stroke a cat. “There is no need to worry. Claudia is oblivious to everything else but her career and Mietek. But if you want to tell her…” He pinches a nipple that has Stiles twitches but not move away. “You can. I won’t mind. But you’re a smart girl, Stiles. I know you’ll think about consequences before diving right into action, right?”

From her point of view under him, the light casts shadows on John’s contours, and not all the shadows are kind. The hand continues to her thigh, calloused skin rubbing over silky young flesh. “You’re a minor, so I’ll undeniably be charged with statutory rape and lose my job _and_ my family. But you, Stiles, people in town know you as Stephanie Miles, the daughter to a single mother who works in the diner as a waitress, right? The mother who can’t keep her man as he ran away in the dark.” The fingers sweeping along her sopping cleft end at her entrance and settle to take a peek inside.

“It’s all a matter of social perception; a respected sheriff with a loving wife and a newborn son, and you, a horny teenager with a chance of daddy issue, searching for attention, covetous for a man to take care of your needs,” Three fingers curl inside her and the thumb rubs the flesh around her clit. Stiles’ eyelids flutter stubbornly to stay open as John nuzzles along her jaw. “I can move to another state and start a new life if this town doesn’t accept me. But you? You’ll always be known as the avaricious filthy slut who seduced the nice sheriff and cost him his life, all just because you want someone to notice you. And your poor mother? She’ll be the one taking the brunt and the humiliation for your amatory exploits. Shame on her, isn’t it?” John pulls away to show her his sad smile and bright eyes.

It’s near impossible to complete a proper sentence in her cloudy mind, let alone not slurring the words like a stoned alcoholic. Still, something must have shown on her face since John’s smile splits his cheeks after he read it. He pumps his wrist that draws waves upon waves of intense pleasure, vacating Stiles’ mind for one blissful moment. By the time her vision clears John has surged forward to bruise her lips with his teeth and tongue. “Good girl,” He says into her pants, into her sweaty skin, between the puffy pink folds leaking clear juice – a stamp to seal a deal, or a promise.

Stiles can’t tell anymore.

 

#

 

Stiles enters her home just as Melanie Miles steps out of her room for water, the empty glass in her hand the obvious proof. “Welcome home honey.” Mother and daughter hug, and Stiles hopes her mom is still groggy from sleep to not notice her tensing muscles at her touch. “Had fun at the Stilinskis?”

“Yeah. We’re lucky baby Mietek party like a pro while awake and sleep like the dead once his juice is out.” Stiles pulls back a little to take note of the mother she hardly spends any time with – with long hours at the diner and school and everything else, taking a fresh breath of air seems more important to either of them. Stiles registers her dark circles under her eyes, messy dull hair and pasty skin – a woman who’d worked so hard yet got nothing in return. How is this fair, world? “How about our dearest queen? Stop eating cookie dough just because I’m not here to cook.”

Melanie rolls her eyes mightily. They’re making a point. “That was only ONCE. I can cook too, you know.”

“I know, I know. You’re the one who taught me all the secrets of making the perfect omelet, right?” Stiles gives her mother a good squeeze, cheek to cheek. “Now go back to your beauty sleep. You know you need it.”

“Bossy,” Melanie grins with humor dancing on the lines of her face as she heads back to her bed.

It isn’t until she’s in bed once the sky is shrouded in ink that Stiles finds herself anticipating for something.

Or rather, her body is ravenous, despite having filled with dinner an hour ago. She feels restless – her skin too tight yet a deep hollow balloon inside. Taking a glance at the thin wall that separates mother and daughter’s bedroom, Stiles slips her hand under the cover and brushes her pussy. There is a faint tingle, and that’s all. Nothing to threaten to shake her bones apart or make her toes curl. Stiles tries to insert her fingers into her hole, and has to muffle a hiss into the pillow at the awful burn since there isn’t enough of her slick to ease her dry fingers inside. She even attempts to mimic the rhythm John designed, and frustratingly she isn’t even halfway to the peak.

It can’t be…

In a fit of insanity, and horribly unsatisfied, Stiles ends up with a marker pen in hand. Of course, she has enough common sense left not to plug the pen straight inside her and wiped it down with the hydrogen peroxide in the first-aid box. Fondling her clit yields minimal slick, but enough for the glossy surface of the pen to slide in without fuss. It seems her body is confused by the less thick girth of the pen and refuses to come no matter how deep she pushes the pen inside. Exasperated, and with the little mix of shame, has Stiles tossed the pen at the wall. She yanks the blanket over her head and tries to keep her mind blank for the rest of the night, ignoring the siren call to a certain cock down the familiar path.

 

#

 

Three days later finds Stiles knocking on the Stilinski’s door. Claudia greets her enthusiastically the moment she crosses into the house. “Thank you again for staying the night. We don’t even know what to do without you – I have the night shift, and John needs to be at the station early tomorrow. You’ll have Mietek and the house until tomorrow afternoon. We’re not disturbing your plans for the summer, are we?”

“Nah. Not really. I’ll either be the third wheel with Scott and Allison at the bowling alley or taking a shift at Anna Beans. I heard the Stilinskis have the easiest money.”

Claudia laughs in delight as she herds Stiles towards the den, where John is watching the news channel. The man turns around and gives her a warm smile. “Hi Stiles. Glad you’re back again.”

Stiles’ lips curve into what she hopes is a tentative smile. Claudia, not noticing the sudden awkwardness in the air, bulldozes on. “Yes! That’s what I said. You mom won’t mind if you move in with us right?” She chuckles at her own joke. “Well, Mietek’s out cold. For now. No need to be humble inside these walls. And John, make sure she’s taken care of.” Oh if only she _knew_ the suggestive implication behind those words.

“Yes ma’am.” John gets out of the couch and gives his wife a farewell gift on her cheek before walking her to the door. Witnessing the simple affection between them has Stiles’ gut churning distastefully. What did she really hope to gain in the first place when she bounds towards Claudia’s call at the first ring? She’s from a single-parent family, and no, she doesn’t think it’s incomplete or need mending, but that doesn’t mean she gets high on watching someone else’s family break apart. Claudia doesn’t deserve it, and Mietek the least.

Deep in her swirly thoughts she didn’t move from her spot since Claudia last left her at, or the approaching figure, and nearly jumps out of her skin at the hand grabbing her tit from behind. John nuzzles the point between the neck and shoulder as he drags her into his embrace, her back to his solid chest. Stiles’ eyes widened at the hard-on poking into her bottom, and is aghast by the relief swelling under her ribs.

“How is my sweet slut?” He mouths on an ear and nibbles the lobe. “Did you give your body the attention it needs? Did you get a substitute cock to fulfill your demanding cunt? Or were you satisfied by your fingers only?”

“C-Can’t–”

“Hmm, what?”

There is no reason to add to Stiles’ bucket of shame. But it’s been three days. Three days with _wrongwrongwrong_ chanting in her mind whenever she tried multiple methods and multiple positions just for that one single, intense release. She’s frustrated as hell, and she knows she’s at her limit. Or at least, her body is.

“I tried…with my fingers. Can’t find it, can’t c-come… Please…” Stiles chokes on a bubbling sob, but she can’t find it to mind.

“Hush. It’s all right. There is nothing wrong with you,” A flick of his fingers and the button comes free and the zip loose. Her chest expands at the first contact of John’s hand under her panties, her hips rocking in search for his touch to sooth away the ache, to silence her yearning mind. “See how wet you are right now? And I’m not even doing anything. I’m right. You are a natural cockslut – you won’t be able to come just by stuffing a dildo inside. Your body doesn’t belong to you, but to whoever that can fuck you good with a real cock.” John rolls his hips leisurely, and Stiles shudders at the meager taste of what is about to come. “ _And you’re lucky to have me._ ” With those words he rams his fingers inside her until Stiles sees stars.

Stiles is faintly aware of John moving her to the dining table and taking the chair behind her, his strong thighs framing her sides. “Why don’t we try something else tonight?” Stiles cranes over her shoulder to fix her gaze on John, and then at the erect dick capable of slicing diamond. “You pussy must be famished by now, so why don’t you be the one to feed my cock? You take the helm, and decide how much you need. It’s not difficult; just go slow,” John guides her back to his dick, the glans giving the rim a welcoming kiss. “Just sink your ass down… _yesss_.” John purrs at the velvet creamy heat consuming him; he’s barely able to hold onto the rein of control at the slow descending pace.

With her constant fingering, the ring of muscles thankfully doesn’t flare in pain at the intrusion, and Stiles barely register the fingers digging bruises into her skin. The moment she sits on John’s balls, Stiles lets out a long exhale – the final piece of the puzzle finally fits in. A kiss is planted between her shoulder blades. “That’s it. You did so good. That’s my good girl.” The hands guide her hips to rock gently on his lap until Stiles finds the strength to lift up until only half of his dick is inside and drops back down. With her hands perch on the table, Stiles sets the rhythm of spearing her pussy open with John’s dick, while the man fondles her tits from time to time. There is no competition for a swift climax, yet achieving the release is equally intense.

“Let’s get you to bed, sweetheart,” Stiles nods languidly and lets the hand on her shoulder steers her up the stairs and into the bedroom. Once she’s comfortably among the pillows John sheaths his half rigid dick back inside her, the ruined rubber disposed and a new one in its place. They lie on their side, sharing casual honeyed kisses and savory touches as they wait for John’s refractory period to pass. Stiles can feel the shaft inside her swells and throbs into a solid rod, no doubt aided by the convulsing inner muscles flexing on instinct. Stiles is actually glad in knowing that John isn’t as unaffected as she is by the heavy breaths she’s drinking in.

“Come here, you naughty whore,” John’s voice is a low gravel as he straightens them up without detaching his dick from her hole. Stiles mewls as she takes the dick to the root, the consuming fullness inside her that cannot be replicated elsewhere. “You perfect cockslut. Look how much you’re glowing just from cock-warming, just having a cock plugging your hole. That’s why I know you’ll keep our little tryst a secret from Claudia.” He sucks a nipple to pebble hard and raw before heading for the other, peppering kisses along the way.

“There are so many chances for you to call the station, or Claudia, or anyone. But you didn’t. And you know why?” The firm grip hauls her up to the tip and slams her back down, punching a keen out of her. “That’s because your body is afraid of losing me. You subconsciously know you’re made for taking my cock, so you can’t stand to be separated from me. I’ll bet that’s how you feel for the past three days, right?” Stiles bounces her hips on her own accord, occasionally interrupted by John nailing upwards. The bedframe rattles beneath them. “Good girl. Take it like the pretty whore you are. You know you’re made for this – to be fucked and your cunt wrecked and nothing else.”

After Stiles sags under his chin feeling as if she’d blown her mind with dynamite sticks, John continues to rock his dick until he shoots his load into the rubber with a silent grunt. A finger under her chin directs her up to John’s mouth, relishing the aftermath in lazy sloppy kisses. “Such a good girl for me.” He taps a quick kiss between her sweaty brows; his voice a slithering black snake into her ears. “Give all of you to me, hmm? I gave my word to Claudia to take care of you, and you’d hate me to break my promise, right?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same as the first chapter, there is triggering materials below. Read at your own risk.
> 
> And if you hate this kind of work, don't tell me. I'll just reply 'told you so :D' (Yes, with the smiley.) Why? Well, then, why are you even in chapter 2?
> 
> Again, no beta. All mistakes are mine.

**Two Years Later**

 

 

“Here we are. Finally,” With the jeep in park, John leaps out, filling his lungs with the cool air of Lake Tahoe while his legs finding comfort on solid soil after the five hours’ drive.

Stiles follows him out much more sedately, her eyes fix to the sight of the enormous body of water and the cabin next to it – a cozy, rustic looking building with a broad front porch and attached to a simple dock raised a few inches above the water. The lake house is meant for a family vacation, and Stiles is invited along after the Stilinskis got wind of her getting accepted into Berkeley. The more the merrier, Claudia gushes, until the day she got a call from her parents back in Poland, and had to tuck a tail between her legs because how dare she not let them meet their three years older grandchild?!

“I don’t want him to travel until he’s built up immunity!” Claudia screamed on this side of the line, but acquiesced to let them buy the tickets for mother and son. “No, don’t cancel the trip just because we’re not here! You need a break, Sheriff Stilinski, and so help me I’ll tie you to the passenger seat so Stiles can drive you both there.”

Stiles takes her eyes away from the sparkling surface of the lake when a hand lands on her shoulder, the smile John wears as warm as the sunlight oozing through the trees. “Come on. Let’s get our bags in first.”

The cabin is two-story with basic layout, so it doesn’t take them long to locate the master room. Huge French windows face the lake and the bed enough for five to sleep abreast. There is even a nice fireplace by one side of the wall. “Claudia will definitely love it here,” Stiles says the first thing that comes to mind.

In her periphery John shrugs nonchalantly. “Can’t change what has been done.” He takes a seat at the edge of the bed. “Come here, Stiles.”

Stiles turns and first notices the gap between John’s thighs – a space created just for her. “Now?”

“Think of it as us commencing our first vacation together. It’ll be a worthy memory, right?”

She licks her lips, letting saliva pools inside her mouth as she approaches John and gets to her knees. A hand combs through her shoulder-length hair, all gentle and fascinated, as Stiles free the man’s dick from the confines of his brief and jeans. She closes her lips around the glans and give kitten-licks to the slit, earning a sharp tug of her hair. Stiles lets herself take a small amount of pride in it. Little by little she works her throat as she swallows the hardening cock, a firm weight on her tongue while her cheeks dent in the middle of sucking.

They had found out that as long as Stiles is given time to prepare her gagging reflex is nonexistent. And not too soon she has her nose buried in fair pubic hair with John’s dick lodged securely in her throat. In the empty room John’s heavy breathing amplifies; there is a thudding ache to her scalp due to the tight fist in her hair. Stiles pulls back and lets her tongue swirl around the tip as her fingers pump the base and fondle the heavy balls.

“Christ. _Christ_.” John hisses out, his hips twitch impatiently as Stiles drags her tongue over the underside of his dick before wrapping it in her warm wet mouth again. John has once mentioned how obscene her pink lips look stretched by the girth of his dick. The guttural growl is Stiles’ only warning before the unforgiving grip has Stiles’ head immobile as he fucks into her throat in abandoned. “Take it, slut. You like having your mouth ruined too, don’t you. Turned on as you look at yourself with swollen lips and sore jaw in the mirror; unable to resist having your tummy filled with my come before breakfast. You hopeless, wanton whore.”

John comes straight down her throat and Stiles slurps for the last few drops before letting go his limp shaft. John grabs her by the arms and throws her on the bed, the man surges forward to taste his salty seed in her wet cavern and Stiles’ moans. “As much as I love to keep you in bed,” John mumbles as he treks kisses down to her collarbones, a supple mound of her breast cupped in his palm. “I’d like to enjoy the view outside of four walls too.” He steals a last kiss before getting out of the bed. “Let’s get you ready for the outdoor.”

 

#

 

By ‘getting her ready’ John means to strip her bare of fabric other than the blindfold over her eyes, a spreader bar straps to her thighs, forcing her legs apart and her hands resting on the deck chair’s armrests – not to be removed until ordered otherwise. Inside her a butt plug settles contentedly.

Stiles keens, her shoulders squirm in self-constraint when John runs the vibrator over her clit again and again in maddening feather-light degree, her fingers digging into the wood of the chair in effort of keeping her hips still. “Do you know we’re in the direct view of another lake house just across of ours?” John says quietly as he nuzzles and nips the skin behind her ear. “What happens if someone comes out of the house, hmm? What do you think will be their focal point if they glance straight here?”

Stiles’ heart shrinks, her breath labored with the sudden rise of helpless panic. With the blindfold in place she can’t make her own conclusion that the lake house on the other side is undeniably empty. “I wonder if it’s just a person, or a group renting the place. Can you imagine, having more than a pair of eyes staring at you as you spreading your legs in open-air?” He pinches a pebbled rosebud, more juice gushes out to soak the chair. “I bet they’ll think you’re a horny bitch – all ripe and ready to be fucked and filled with their seeds. But you’ll like it. Oh I know you’ll love it, you insatiable slut – getting pounded nonstop by cocks, having come spreading over your body like butter and leaking out of your holes. _And even then you’ll beg for more._ ”

He presses down the vibrator on her clit and Stiles is a hairbreadth too late in holding back the scream erupting from inside her. She’s not yet drops the handle for her body to climax. In the past two years John had her body broken in not to come until he had his dick inside her. The delayed orgasm always has Stiles’ limbs frail like a newborn colt after, but the intense pleasure juddering through her body is one she’ll go through fire and ice to experience again.

“Good girl,” John praises as he runs soothing hand down her trembling side. “Tell me what you need.”

A slew of demands, of pleads come fore to mind, all at the tip of her tongue. She doesn’t let them have her voice. Instead, she asks for, “Kiss me, please.”

Stiles eagerly leans into the hand that cups her cheek, mewling beautifully as she invites John’s tongue to stay with hers. It’s not easy to keep her mind away from the heat gathering under her gut or the jolts of pleasure sprinting into her mind, but she tries. _Oh how hard she tries._

“Enough.” Stiles’ heart skips in delight at the undercurrent hankering in John’s growl. She doesn’t move an iota when John switches off the vibrator, or when he removes the spreader bar. Only when the man plucks her off into air that Stiles does drape her arms round his neck, her ankles crosses at the small of his back. He takes a bite at the thrumming pulse under her skin, hard enough to break the flesh and has her keening for more.

“Place your hands to your sides and hold onto the rail.” John says once he stops moving. With her fingers Stiles traces the course wood behind her and clamp down. John has her elevated a little to shove his rock-hard shaft up into her dripping pussy. With the extra presence of the butt plug her pussy seems to be a tighter fit, but John manages. “Come for me. Go on…there’s a good girl.” It doesn’t take more than five thrust for Stiles to come like the water of a broken dam – the water emptying out in an uncontrollable and implausible speed.

John manhandles her until she has her back to him, her shaky feet on the ground as she faces the lake. The soft fabric of John’s shirt prickles her back with heightened senses as he closes in on her, one hand sliding the butt plug out and leaves behind a gaping asshole. Stiles doesn’t think the sight is attractive, but John assures her it’s the best view he’d ever set eyes on – that no famed photograph or legendary art could compare – while rubbing the sore rim reverently. John loves her pussy best; could spend hours eating her out tirelessly. But sometimes he favors her asshole too, making sure to smear the other hole with ample lube before fucking her into oblivion.

“You know what,” John says under heavy breath as he trails kisses along her shoulder; his fingers tangled with Stiles’ atop the banister, content in sheathing his dick first. “I don’t think I like sharing you with strangers. No. Too much risk there. How about, how about I reward the boys at the station? Hmm, what do you think? I know you have a blossoming crush for a certain Deputy HALE there.”

The words may be muffled by the drumming in her ears, but Stiles hears them loud enough, and writhes in embarrassment. No one is supposed to know; she didn’t even tell SCOTTY.

“Yeah, I knew. You know better than to hide things from me, slut.” He rams into her that nearly has Stiles loses her footing. “But it’s all right. Even I can see the boy’s appeal – his hazel eyes, the biceps under the uniform, his grouchy frown. I’d wager you must have seen him in leather, right? All the bad boy image once he’s off the clock. And you must have dreamt of him fucking you so rough you can’t even walk for days. Right?” Stiles’ breath hitches as John bites down on a patch of skin that bounds to bloom into a deep bruise later.

“I have an idea. Since you’re moving to Berkeley, we can find an apartment for you.” John lets go one of her hands to knead her tits, nail flicking her nipple into full erect. “A place just for us, when we visit. No need to fret, I’ll help with the budget.” Stiles rests her head on John’s shoulder as he nuzzles her heated cheek. “I’ll have the deputies send in their clean bill first, of course. But all that matters to you is that Hale kid, isn’t it. No worries, I’ll let you have a solo night with him before I bring in the rest of the boys. Or better yet, I’ll supervise right beside you as he fucks you. Don’t want you damaged before the other boys get their share.” Two more pumps and his hot load paints her inside white.

“Can’t wait for it, huh,” John dips down to kiss the rest of her energy away. “That’s my sweet whore.”


End file.
